his workingman's clothes. Poor Jimmy. If only he hadn't been so hasty with her! And she a lady in a motor car, wearing a pink plumed hat with lace falling from the brim.
Pearl called on her that afternoon. Pearl in a new fall suit lined with satin, long kid gloves with innumerable buttons, and shoes with wide silk ties. A black velvet toque, too, with white roses. Pearl was greatly wrought up over the letter shown her on a pledge of secrecy. Delight must do it, must go to meet this wonderful man, this prize-cattle breeder.
"Do you suppose he really is rich?" asked Delight. "It would seem too good to be true. Like a dream, Pearl."
"I know. But look at Edwin. Folks said no good would come of me trustin' him. And look at me now."
Delight looked at her, deeply admiring.
"Think of havin' your own motor car."
"I'm afraid of them. I've only seen a few."
"Pshaw. There's nothing to be afraid of. Every well-off man'll own one before long."
"Pearl, think of me with no work to do. Not at anybody's beck and call."
"Like me. I tell you it's grand to lie in bed as late as you like and never have your ankles swelled up with being on your feet all day."
"It must be grand, Pearl."
But her face had become thoughtful.
"There's Jimmy, Pearl. He might come back."
Pearl was a soft, gentle girl but, like many gentle women, quietly ruthless. She was fond of Delight. She thought that if Delight could marry a gentleman (though, of course, he would not be a real gentleman like Edwin), they might become companions, fast friends. In Delight's marriage she would find some sort of anchorage for
